CHANGE OF HEART
After my best friend, Sumeet’s death, I felt hopeless, miserable, despondent and lonely. He was my best friend since kindergarten, someone I had come to rely on for support and encouragement. He was a brother from another mother. He was a constant in my life, his aspirations inspired me and his presence always filled me with hope. Now everything is gone and all that remains behind was darkness. I lived a life which was dictated by deadlines and project completions. I was constantly on the move, shuttling between Florence and Paris, London and Milan, but that was expected as I was the editor of the European vogue.
Sumeet was a pilot for Air India. As I was leaving a business meeting in Paris, the front clerk at the desk stopped me and asked if I had heard the news.
Being impatient to make it to another meeting on time, I snapped at her. She said it was important and switched the television on.
The news reporter was talking about an air crash in Bombay, my hometown. At first nothing registered, the bits of news floating into my ears were vague. I did not make the connection.
Suddenly I saw Sumeet on the television. My heart contracted painfully. I paid more attention to the news reporter. She said he was dead. “The pilot “, that’s what she called him, “was killed due to impact while saving his passengers”
‘She’s lying, this is not happening!’ I repeatedly told myself. The desk clerk became concerned and called the ambulance for me. The last thing I remembered of that fateful day was Sumeet’s smiling face next to words that spoke volumes of his courage.
After that nothing seemed too important anymore. I resigned from my job, moved back to India to stay with my parents. I visited Sumeet’s grave often, and increasingly a sense of restlessness began to fill me, only to be replaced by hopelessness the next second.
I lost track of the date, the day the time. I lost track of everything. All I wanted was my best friend.
My parents grew concerned. My mother urged me to seek professional help but I brushed her aside.
As time passed by, my father lost patience with me. One morning, a similar morning, he woke me up, asked me to get dressed and get in the car. I protested.
He grew angry. I relented and to appease him, obeyed his orders and got dressed and met him downstairs. He told me drive to a little orphanage called Shantiniketan.
It was old dilapidated building, seriously in need of a good painting. I mentioned this to my father. He ignored me and continued on his way in. I reluctantly followed.
Suddenly, I was pinned to the ground by a hundred pairs of hands, all demanding chocolates! Kids!!!
They were everywhere! In every size, every colour, every shape and every age! The place was swarming with kids. My father started laughing and told the kids the chocolates were waiting in the car. They rushed off in the direction of the car, stepping over me and crushing me beneath their feet.
“Glad you got a laugh”, I gingerly told my father as he helped me up.
He patted my head and told me to observe.
And I did. The entire day, I observed. I observed how, even though these kids were deprived of parents, they seemed happy. I observed their courage. How unlike me, they did not lose their way. How they appreciated everyone in their lives, right from the grumpy watchman to the smiling matron’s observed their determination to make the best of what they had.
And as I observed, I learnt. I learnt how to bare my soul out and cry. I learnt how to let go off the pain and carry on with life. I observed and learnt how not to be.
You see, I was a loner. And Sumeet was the only friend I had in my entire life. So losing him suddenly hit me hard. I couldn’t take the pain and when life did make it easier for me to go out and live, I choose not to. According to me, there was nothing left to live for.
But the kids in the orphanage inspired me. All of them were turned away by their relatives, some of them had lost their parents, and some of them did not know their parents. But they continue to live.
Later, when I returned home, with a renewed zest for life, I promised myself to try. I promised myself to be happy.
It’s been three years since that fateful day. Three years since my buddy died. But I’ve come a long way. And when I look back at those three years, the day that stands out is the day I visited the orphanage,
Those kids gave me hope. They changed my heart!
ARCHANA .R
After my best friend, Sumeet’s death, I felt hopeless, miserable, despondent and lonely. He was my best friend since kindergarten, someone I had come to rely on for support and encouragement. He was a brother from another mother. He was a constant in my life, his aspirations inspired me and his presence always filled me with hope. Now everything is gone and all that remains behind was darkness. I lived a life which was dictated by deadlines and project completions. I was constantly on the move, shuttling between Florence and Paris, London and Milan, but that was expected as I was the editor of the European vogue.
Sumeet was a pilot for Air India. As I was leaving a business meeting in Paris, the front clerk at the desk stopped me and asked if I had heard the news.
Being impatient to make it to another meeting on time, I snapped at her. She said it was important and switched the television on.
The news reporter was talking about an air crash in Bombay, my hometown. At first nothing registered, the bits of news floating into my ears were vague. I did not make the connection.
Suddenly I saw Sumeet on the television. My heart contracted painfully. I paid more attention to the news reporter. She said he was dead. “The pilot “, that’s what she called him, “was killed due to impact while saving his passengers”
‘She’s lying, this is not happening!’ I repeatedly told myself. The desk clerk became concerned and called the ambulance for me. The last thing I remembered of that fateful day was Sumeet’s smiling face next to words that spoke volumes of his courage.
After that nothing seemed too important anymore. I resigned from my job, moved back to India to stay with my parents. I visited Sumeet’s grave often, and increasingly a sense of restlessness began to fill me, only to be replaced by hopelessness the next second.
I lost track of the date, the day the time. I lost track of everything. All I wanted was my best friend.
My parents grew concerned. My mother urged me to seek professional help but I brushed her aside.
As time passed by, my father lost patience with me. One morning, a similar morning, he woke me up, asked me to get dressed and get in the car. I protested.
He grew angry. I relented and to appease him, obeyed his orders and got dressed and met him downstairs. He told me drive to a little orphanage called Shantiniketan.
It was old dilapidated building, seriously in need of a good painting. I mentioned this to my father. He ignored me and continued on his way in. I reluctantly followed.
Suddenly, I was pinned to the ground by a hundred pairs of hands, all demanding chocolates! Kids!!!
They were everywhere! In every size, every colour, every shape and every age! The place was swarming with kids. My father started laughing and told the kids the chocolates were waiting in the car. They rushed off in the direction of the car, stepping over me and crushing me beneath their feet.
“Glad you got a laugh”, I gingerly told my father as he helped me up.
He patted my head and told me to observe.
And I did. The entire day, I observed. I observed how, even though these kids were deprived of parents, they seemed happy. I observed their courage. How unlike me, they did not lose their way. How they appreciated everyone in their lives, right from the grumpy watchman to the smiling matron’s observed their determination to make the best of what they had.
And as I observed, I learnt. I learnt how to bare my soul out and cry. I learnt how to let go off the pain and carry on with life. I observed and learnt how not to be.
You see, I was a loner. And Sumeet was the only friend I had in my entire life. So losing him suddenly hit me hard. I couldn’t take the pain and when life did make it easier for me to go out and live, I choose not to. According to me, there was nothing left to live for.
But the kids in the orphanage inspired me. All of them were turned away by their relatives, some of them had lost their parents, and some of them did not know their parents. But they continue to live.
Later, when I returned home, with a renewed zest for life, I promised myself to try. I promised myself to be happy.
It’s been three years since that fateful day. Three years since my buddy died. But I’ve come a long way. And when I look back at those three years, the day that stands out is the day I visited the orphanage,
Those kids gave me hope. They changed my heart!
ARCHANA .R
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